Spirit of the Night

“If more politicians knew poetry, and more poets knew politics, I am convinced the world would be a little better place in which to live than it is…” - John F. Kennedy

Last week during the solar eclipse, I found myself contemplating the meaning of life on planet Earth, both what we know and what we do not. While I typically think about life after death, a friend suggested that I write poetry during this celestial event. And so, I did. As I have always had an affinity for the number three, I present to you the result of my musings.

I SAID

When I die let my body fly.

Book me a trip on a rocket ship

and launch me at dawn.  Play some

French music and a Nina Simone song.  Give me

a eulogy through a static headset.  Let the

booster jets be my pallbearers and give

me a smoke plume instead of a tomb.  And

everyone awake who tries to fake

some caffeinated joy can take their eyes

out of their chai latte and turn their face

to space instead.

I THOUGHT

Let me sail on solar winds over

all of the lunar seas

past crises and clouds and tranquility

nectar and moisture and fertility

even past the pyramids NASA never lets us see

until my body passes right over the moon.

Let me float like a balloon until I’m over Venus—

the reason for jimmy hats

both deity and devil and a woman

at that.  Let my ship land on a mountain cap

and let my body blaze in a snowfall of lead.

I FELT

Let me bathe at 700 degrees

under storms of pure CO2.

Let me walk without shoes

on volcanic plains and wash my hair

in sulfuric rains just don’t leave me

down here.  On Earth I watch

children get shot going to school

while boys and men get guns with sweaty hands.

Bury me

on a land where I can never stand

the air, I can never breathe

on a planet, I can never know

around a star I cannot see.

Let me leave this world when I am dead.